


Bitten

by BiffElderberry



Category: The Following
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dubious Consent, Forced Bonding, Implied Mpreg, Knifeplay, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-05 23:59:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/pseuds/BiffElderberry
Summary: “Jesus,” Ryan breathed, seeing the bite for the first time. He recognized it instantly. It was a claiming bite, between an alpha and their omega. The bite still oozed blood sluggishly. It was fresh. It had to have been Roderick that bit him. “I’m sorry kid,” he mumbled. If he had made it a few minutes faster than maybe he could save Mike from the hell he was going to endure. That is, if he survived the blood lose.





	Bitten

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reeby10](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reeby10/gifts).



> yea you know who is writing this because I was texting you while I was writing, so I'm not even going to pretend to be anonymous here. 
> 
> Anyways when I first watched the following it was around the time of the Darkest Night Exchange and I got this idea and started to write it as a treat for you (maybe part of the prompt was in your letter? I can't remember anymore?) However I wasn't able to get through all of it in the time frame, so it squandered away in my WIP folder till I had a chance to dig it back out for ABOex. 
> 
> I'm not overwhelmingly happy with the ending. I think I left too loose strings. There's a possibility for a second chapter, or a sequel, or an epilogue depending on when I can get it written or figured out.

“Come on. Come on,” Rodrick approached Mike again, slapping his face till he opened his eyes. “Ring a ding ding”  

 

Mike groaned rolling over. Every inch of his body ached. His mouth was swollen and bloody from the first round with Charlie, and his ears were still ringing from the last blow with the pipe. 

 

“It’s not over until you stop breathing,” Roderick continued. He reached down and grabbed Mike by hair, pulling his head up. “You’re still breathing.” 

 

Mike gasped, trying to find the strength to stand up, to fight off his attackers. But it was hopeless. He was going to die here. 

 

“You’ve got one last chance here,” Roderick said, slowly letting go of Mike’s hair. “Where’s Claire?” 

 

Mike shook his head. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, then again stronger. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” He could barely get the words out of his swollen mouth. 

 

“I believe you,” Roderick said, “I believe you.” But Mike knew they wouldn’t let him go. They were a cult of serial killers after all.

 

“Final round,” Roderick commanded his group. He stood up, walking away from Mike. 

 

“Help him up,” Roderick ordered when Mike couldn’t stand up on his own.  Two of the groupies grabbed him, dragging him to his feet. Mike shook them off, pushing through to standing. 

 

“I’m gonna find claire whether you help me or not,” The big guy, Charlie said.  The blond woman brought out two knives. She handed one to Charlie and threw the other on the ground before kicking it over to Mike. He barely had the strength to kneel down to pick it up but somehow he ended up back on his feet.

 

A few more gasps for air and he was ready. He lunged forward with his knife only to run into Charlie’s own strike sticking him in the gut. Mike dropped his own knife as pain laced up his body. He fell to his knees staring down at where the blood blossomed on his grey shirt. 

 

“I got this,” the woman stepped forward grabbing the knife out of Charlie’s hand. 

 

“No let me,” Roderick ordered, stepping in front of her. He dropped to his knees in front of Mike, staring at the blood oozing from the other man’s side. His fingers ghosted through the blood. This had always been his favorite part, the blood, the power over his victims.  He slipped a finger into the hole Charlie had cut.

 

Mike screamed. He tried to push off the other man, but Roderick didn’t move.

 

“Grab him,” Roderick ordered one of the other men. Someone came up behind Mike. His arms were quickly grabbed, and pulled behind his body. He tried to wrestle free but he had no such luck. 

 

Roderick slide another finger into the wound. He loved the way Mike screamed. It would be such a pity to lose such a perfect specimen. He would have liked to make his death slow, to soak up every delicious scream, the groans of pain, to watch Mike break in body and spirit.  But he had to do something. 

 

He leaned in smelling in the scent of the other man’s blood. But there was something else there. He pulled his fingers out of the wound, and idly traced the other man’s chest drawing designs in his own blood. It was the scent of an omega. 

 

Surprising really. Roderick had spent enough time in law enforcement to know that an omega officer was rare. Especially in the FBI. In fact the only other one he knew of was Ryan Hardy. 

 

He leaned in again, drinking in the omega scent. It was intoxicating. He licked at the other man’s throat feeling his own arousal grow.  He brought his other hand up to caress Mike’s cheek. It slid behind his head, bracing him, keeping Mike from pulling away. He sunk his fingers back into the wound at the same time as he bit the tender flesh of the other man’s throat. 

 

Mike’s scream was music to Roderick’s ears.

 

It would have been even better if Ryan hadn’t burst in at that moment gun blazing. Roderick dropped Mike as they scrambled. He heard a thud as the man who had been holding Mike took a bullet in the back.

 

“Go go,” he yelled at his crew as they fled the building. He grabbed his own pistol from his holster returning a few shots himself before fleeing himself. He took one last glance at his little omega lying in a pool of his own blood before exiting the building.

 

As soon as Roderick and his men were gone Ryan ran to Mike. 

 

“No, don’t move,” he ordered, as he supported the other man. He clenched his hands over the wound in his gut, trying to stop the bleeding. “An ambulance is coming, take it easy.” 

 

“I didn’t tell them,” Mike gasped out, “I didn’t tell them anything.”  

 

“Okay,” Ryan replied, he had no idea what Carroll’s men had tried to torture out of the agent, but he knew that accepting whatever Mike said right now was important. The other man’s head lulled. “Come on,” Ryan shook him slightly, “Stay with me, buddy.” But Mike was out, his head rolling to the side.

 

“Jesus,” Ryan breathed, seeing the bite for the first time. He recognized it instantly. It was a claiming bite, between an alpha and their omega. The bite still oozed blood sluggishly. It was fresh. It had to have been Roderick that bit him. “I’m sorry kid,” he mumbled. If he had made it a few minutes faster than maybe he could save Mike from the hell he was going to endure. That is, if he survived the blood lose. 

 

~*~

Mike was in the hospital for two weeks. It felt like the longest two weeks of his life.  At first it had gone fast. He had brief memories, in between passing out, of being loaded into the ambulance, of going into surgery, of waking up when the nurse changed out his blood bag and almost attacking her because he forgot where he was.

 

Then came the dull waiting to be healed part. He knew it would take time to recover, after all he had been beaten and stabbed. Not to mention that his stab wound had become infected, probably due to Roderick sticking his finger inside of him, which made it just take longer to heal. 

 

Then there was the bite. Mike told the nurses, the doctors, the guards on his door, that the bite was from his long term boyfriend. That they had decided to do that earlier that afternoon, before he was kidnapped by the cult. They all just nodded along, pity in their eyes. No amount of lying on his part could make up for the absence of his supposed alpha boyfriend. 

 

It became worse three days into his stay when his heat came on suddenly. He had woken to a cold sweat, and an aching need deep in his soul. He should have known this was coming. It was completely normal for an omega to go into heat shortly after being claimed. The bite triggered it. Still he hadn’t prepared for it. 

 

One of the doctors wrote him a prescription for a heat suppressant. It wouldn’t be powerful enough to stamp out the heat completely but it was enough to take the edge off, to keep him from writhing around in the bed, tearing open healing wounds. However the doctor told him he would eventually have to deal with it, the suppressants could just put it off, not erase it forever. 

 

The heat was almost worse than the pain of his injuries. Mike knew he would heal, he was out of the danger zone. He would have been able to return to the FBI and make a full career of it.  But now his future was insecure. Ryan and Debra had both tried to visit him on occasion. Debra had rambled on and on, trying to keep the conversation light, while Ryan sat there silently, occasionally glancing at the bandage on Mike’s neck. Every time Ryan looked at the wound Mike felt himself flush with shame. He wasn’t sure how much Ryan had seen before he rescued him. He didn’t know if Ryan knew who bit him. They wouldn’t tell him anything about the case. He wasn’t sure he had a job to go back to, now that he was bound to Carroll's second in command. 

 

But then the day had come that Mike was release from the hospital. He had gotten a call from Donovan as he left the hospital, to make plans about him coming back in on the case.

 

When Mike woke up the next morning however something felt very wrong. It felt like he was being pricked all over, like he didn’t fit in his own skin. It was his first day back at work and his heat was coming back. He briefly considered calling in sick, they would be understanding he had just been stabbed after all. But he couldn’t. If it surfaced that he had called in because of his heat... Omegas were already considered bad for the department by many. They claimed it was their biology that made them unable to handle stressful situations, or that their heat could knock them on their ass at any moment. He couldn’t prove the naysayers right. 

 

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he walked out the door.

 

“Meet me at 7372 Stonybrook rd apt 3 Havenport MD,” he read to himself, “10pm. I know you need it.” 

 

He felt a chill run down his spine. He didn’t recognize the number but he knew it had to be Roderick. Roderick who was pulling his fucking chain.

 

Mike could feel his phone burning a hole through his pocket as he met up with Ryan and Debra at the militia base. He smiled through all their fight club jokes, but his mind wasn’t with him. Half of it was on the text and the other half was itching with his heat. He knew he should hand the address over. It was their chance to catch Roderick. 

  
But if they caught Roderick now he would never get through his heat. He could see Debra sniffing the air around him, smelling the slick that leaked down his thigh. Even as a beta she could smell it, just how badly his heat was hitting him. 

 

Besides if he told them why Roderick was texting him, he would be pulled from this case, if not from the FBI in general. 

 

He wouldn’t go, of course. He knew better than to climb into bed with a serial killer. 

 

He itched the entire ride to Fowler’s house. He knew he was being too rash, but between the anger and the heat coursing through him Mike found he couldn’t stop himself. It had to be bad though if Ryan caught onto it. 

 

He hated it even more, when Ryan had asked him if he was okay, if he needed more time off. Ryan would get it better than anyone but that just made it worse. He felt wrong, isolated. Roderick’s bite weighing on his soul. He had to do better. He felt his phone, heavy in his pocket. He should give the address to Ryan, admit to everything. Ryan was an omega, he would get it, he would cover for Mike.

 

Maybe. But could he really trust him with so much? 

 

He got distracted with Monroe. One of the alarms had gone off and Ryan ad gone to check it out. 

 

“You’re in heat huh?” Monroe asked Mike sniffing at the air. It wasn’t a question, not really. “I could uh, help you with that,” Monroe continued, making a lewd gesture. Mike hated himself for even considering it. But Monroe wasn’t what he needed. 

 

It was in that second that Carroll had knocked him in the back of the head. Mike was only out for a few seconds but Carroll was faster. By the time Mike came too he was zip tied to a chair. Ryan was on the other side of the glass. Mike was trapped with Joe Carroll. 

 

“Tell me Agent Weston, hm, did my boys do this to you?” Carroll asked, roughly grabbing at Mike’s hair. He pulled Mike’s head around, examining the various cuts and bruises his followers had left him.

 

“Does it, um... Does it hurt?” Carroll asked before digging his fingers into the large cut across Mike’s forehead. 

 

“KIll him, Ryan,” Mike yelled, “I don’t care if he’s dead!” He felt more than saw Carroll’s blade move to his throat, ready to kill him in a second if Ryan moved. 

 

Joe rolled his head to the side, pushing his neck so far it hurt.    
  


“Now what is this?” Joe asked, idly tracing the blade over the bite mark on Mike’s neck. “Hm, someone’s been naughty hasn’t he. You know, Ryan, you really are rubbing off on the boy, aren’t you?” 

 

“Joe,” Ryan huffed. 

 

“Just a bit of poetic irony I suppose,” Joe chuckled, digging his fingers back into one of Mike’s wounds, chuckling as Mike screamed. 

 

“He’s not going to kill you, Mike. He needs you to get out of here.” 

 

“Oh you are very very bright Ryan,” Joe chuckled. 

 

Mike spat in his face. 

 

“Now, now, don’t be crude,” Joe said, whacking Mike with the handle of the knife. 

 

“Hey! Why don’t you come out here, and Deal with me, huh?” Ryan yelled banging against the window. “Come on!” 

 

This wasn’t about Mike, and he knew it. He was just a pawn in the game. Just a way for Joe to drag up some old pain from Ryan. Some more of his literary bullshit.

 

In the end he watched Joe Carroll and Jacob Wells walk out of the house. Ryan had given chase as soon as Debra was safe but they got away. Of course they did.They couldn’t get any leads, well except the address still in Mike’s phone. 

 

Mike never wanted to sit in the back of an ambulance again. 

 

“How you feel?” Ryan asked.

 

“They’re taking me to a local hospital. They want to run some tests, but I’m fine,” Mike sighed, looking away. 

 

“You had me worried today,” Ryan admitted. Mike almost hated him for it. He was disappointed in himself. He had to be better than this. He couldn’t let his heat distract him. He had dealt with heats before, while in quantico, and while working for the FBI. He had never let it slow him down before. It couldn’t be an excuse. After all with this cult one wrong move and he was dead. 

 

“I went too far, I know. I’m not used to almost dying,” Mike admitted, not able to meet Ryan’s eyes. “It makes it harder to do the right thing. Isn’t always black and right.” 

 

“No you gotta make sure you don’t do something you can’t live with,” Ryan told him,”Because then you’re gonna spend your whole life just trying to make it right.” Mike felt his heart stop. Did Ryan know about Roderick? Did he know what Mike was hiding from him? 

 

“You mean your dad,” Mike offered. Hoping that that was the true topic of the discussion. “You were young, what could you have done?” 

 

“Hey Ryan, I want to introduce you to someone.” Debra said, approaching the ambulance. 

 

“Get some rest,” Ryan told him, before hopping out of the ambulance. “Tomorrow will be better.” 

 

Mike nodded, grimacing. He knew it would be. 

 

“How long will the test take?” He asked one of the EMTs. “I have to be somewhere at 10.” 

 

~*~

 

Mike pulled into the apartment complex at 9:55pm. It was a quaint little place, a sleepy little neighborhood that did nothing to put his mind at rest. After all, it had to be Roderick who had sent him the address, and nothing about this place screamed serial killer. 

 

He sat in his car, wondering if he was really about to do this. He should just go back to his hotel, continue working on tracking down Roderick, Joe, and the rest of the cult, and ignore the heat blazing in his stomach. 

 

But he had been distracted all day by his heat and that distraction had almost costed him his life. Surely it was better to scratch the itch than to let it drive him mad, right? 

 

At 9:59 he got out of the car and approached the right door. He hesitated. Did he knock? Did he enter? Should he have his gun ready just in case it was all a trap? He had no idea what the protocol was for this.  With a deep breath he opened the door, almost surprised to find it unlocked.

 

Roderick was pressed against Mike the moment the door closed behind him. He was pushed up against the door, his back connecting with a solid thump. Mike’s nerves flared as he felt the other man’s heat against him. This is what he had wanted all day. Roderick’s mouth crashed over his. It was not a finised kiss, not a loving kiss, it was all heat and dominance. 

 

Roderick’s hands closed over Mike’s wrists as he bit his lip. Mike tasted blood and groaned. Roderick pushed his hands up above his head, holding him there. 

 

“I wasn’t sure you were going to show,” Roderick said, between desperate kisses. 

 

“I wasn’t either,” Mike replied, grinding against Roderick. Roderick kissed his way down Mike’s neck to the bite he had left a mere two weeks ago. He pressed his teeth against the mark, chuckling at the keening noise Mike made. 

 

Mike swore he saw stars as Roderick pressed his teeth against the bite mark. It sent a bolt of electricity down his spine, making his knees feel weak. He hated feeling this way, like he would let Roderick do anything to him. He hated the moan that tore from his throat as Roderick bit along his neck hard enough that Mike knew he would have bruises the next day. He hated that he was here, falling apart under the ministrations of one of the men he was supposed to be hunting.

 

Roderick shifted his grip, holding both of Mike’s hands with one of his. His free hand played along Mike’s hips, subtly checking his pockets. He pulled Mike’s gun from his holster. 

 

Mike stood there panting looking at his gun wondering if this would be his last moment on earth. Roderick smirked at the weapon for a moment, admiring it. 

 

“You shouldn’t bring weapons to bed,” Roderick chided, setting the gun down on the bookcase next to them. Mike could think of a lot of things he shouldn’t be doing right now, the top of the list being pressed up against the wall by a serial killer.  Roderick took Mike’s phone and badge and dropped them next to the gun.  His leg slid between Mike’s pressing his thigh up against his crotch. 

 

Mike groaned at the pressure. He had been half hard all day, and Roderick’s touch felt like food to the famished. He closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling.  He shouldn’t be enjoying this. Roderick was a killer. He was high up in Carroll’s cult. He should be dragging him to a holding cell, not humping his leg like some disobedient dog. 

 

Mike’s eyes snapped open as he heard the familiar zing of a switchblade opening.  He eyed the blade wearily. His gun was a little too far away and Roderick still had his hands gripped above his head. He felt his heart beating a furious staccato in his chest, as fear chilled his veins. 

 

“Open up,” Roderick told him, taping the flat of the blade against Mike’s bottom lip. Mike didn’t, shaking his head slightly.  “If I wanted to kill you I would stick this here,” He tapped the blade right over Mike’s heart, “or here,” he said, move the blade to the side of his head, right above his ear. “Now, open up.” The blade was back at Mike’s lips now, the tip poking against his top lip.

  
Hesitantly Mike opened his mouth. He kept his tongue flat, trying to avoid the knife as Roderick slide the tip in. Very carefully he moved his tongue around the blunt side of the blade, running it over the cold steel. 

 

Roderick let out the slightest of noises at the sight. His eyes were dilated, staring straight at Mike’s mouth.  It spurred Mike on. He kept his mouth slightly open just enough that Roderick could see the blade as he moved forward, taking in more of the blade. He carefully rolled his tongue around the blunt edge, tasting the steel, before pulling back till just the tip rest in his mouth. 

 

Suddenly pain flared through his tongue. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth as Roderick pulled the knife out.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Roderick panted, flicking the knife closed and clipping it back to his belt. “My hand slipped.” He gripped Mike’s jaw, hard. “Let me see.” Mike opened his mouth, letting the other man look at his tongue. Roderick stared for a moment, twisting Mike’s head this way and that so he could survey the damage he had “accidentally” done.  His eyes were dilated, his breathing heavy. Mike could feel his stiff cock pressed against his hip where their legs were still slotted together. Roderick was turned on by this, by the blood, by the pain, by hurting Mike.  

 

Roderick leaned in and kissed him again. Mike grunted as Roderick’s tongue prodded against his own, poking at the cut. Roderick shifted closer, pushing his thigh harder into Mike’s crotch. 

 

“Come on,” Roderick said, pulling back. He let go of Mike’s arms. “Bedroom’s this way.” 

 

Mike rubbed at his wrist, watching the other man retreat into the apartment. He should turn around and leave. He should call Ryan and the rest of the FBI and capture Roderick now.  

 

Instead he followed Roderick to the bedroom. The moment he was in the room, Roderick grabbed him. He kissed Mike again, insistant, dominant

 

“Strip,” Roderick demanded, falling back to the bed. 

 

Slowly Mike pulled his shirt over his head, wincing slightly as his knife wound twinged. He could practically feel Roderick’s gaze zero in on the gauze taped to his chest. He knew Roderick was thinking about that night about his fingers in the wound. He felt a spike of arousal he didn’t want to admit to push through him.

 

Mike quickly pushed off his pants and underwear, leaving himself feeling exposed in front of Roderick.

 

“Come here,” Roderick said, motioning him forward. Mike came to stand in front of him. Roderick ran his hands up his side, one ghosting over the gauze. He put pressure against the bandage, not enough to break the wound open again, but that didn’t keep Mike from whimpering, feeling himself grow harder if that was even possible. 

 

Roderick grabbed Mike’s ass, a single finger slipping between his cheeks and prodding his hole.

 

“‘I wonder, Agent Weston, if it’s the heat or the pain that has you slick,” Roderick asked, finger slipping in, smearing some of the slick around Mike’s hole.

 

“Please,” Mike whimpered, and instantly hated himself. Hated how desperate he sounded in that moment. 

 

“On the bed,” Roderick ordered, “grab the headboard.” 

 

Mike eagerly clambered onto the bed, positioning himself in the middle. He could hear Roderick stripping behind him. 

 

“If you let go of the headboard I stop,” Roderick told him, climbing on the bed behind Mike, “and I do mean stop everything. If you let go, you will leave. Nod if you understand me.” 

  
Mike nodded, his grip on the headboard tensing. He didn’t know what Roderick meant to do to him, but if it meant that Roderick would fuck him, he would do just about anything. 

 

“Has anyone ever hit you before?” Roderick mused. Mike flinched as his hand ran up and down his spine, a gentle caress. 

 

The first strike of Roderick’s flat palm against his ass made him gasp. It was shock more than pain, but he could practically hear Roderick smirk at his reaction. 

 

He bit his lip on the second slap determined to not give Roderick the reaction he wanted. He could feel blood rush to his cheeks through the next several smacks against his ass. Roderick was good at this, he had experience obviously, alternating the side he hit seemingly at random, varying the pressure. Mike never knew which was coming next. 

 

“Good boy,” Roderick smirked, rubbing a hand harshly over the tender flesh of Mike’s ass. He could hear Roderick shifting behind him, getting closer.

 

Mike groaned as he felt Roderick rub his cock against his ass. He hadn’t gotten a chance to see Roderick but he felt big. He could feel his knot already swollen slightly at the base of his dick. Roderick continued to rub himself against Mike. Mike pushed back against him, desperate for Roderick to push into him. But Roderick just grabbed his hips keeping him from moving again.

 

MIke whimpered, the move going straight to his cock. He needed more. 

 

Roderick use one hand to slowly press his cock against Mike’s hole. 

 

“Ah,” Mike groaned as Roderick finally pressed into him. He felt full, he felt complete, and he hated himself for it. That Roderick could make him fall apart like this just because of his biology. 

 

Roderick set a punishing rhythm, fucking into Mike hard. Mike could feel his knot pressing against his hole on each thrust and desperately wanted it inside of him, desperately wanting more. 

 

He needed to touch his cock. He almost forgot himself as he let go of the headboard with his right hand. 

 

He whined as he felt Roderick stop fucking him.

 

“I said not to let go,” Roderick growled, hand clasping over Mike’s right hand, slamming it back against the headboard.

 

“Did you want me to stop?” He asked, nipping at Mike’s ear. 

 

“No,” Mike breathed. 

 

Roderick smirked, pulling back but luckily not out. Mike felt his heart rate ramp up as he heard Roderick open his switchblade up again. 

 

Mike grunted as he felt the blade bite into his back. It was just a cut but he could feel blood welling up along the line. He wondered if he would end up back in the ER getting stitches once he left.

 

Another spike of pain ran through his nerves as Roderick cut the other side, an identically mark arcing down his back. He groaned as he felt Roderick’s tongue chase across the first line, fire following in its wake. The feeling went straight to his cock. 

 

“Good boy,” Roderick smirked when Mike didn’t try to let go of the head board again. He dropped the knife, still open to the bed. Mike groaned as Roderick slowly started pistoning his hips again, fucking deep into his hole. 

 

Mike writhed trying to find some friction for his cock but he didn’t let go of the headboard. He swore he saw fireworks as Roderick’s knot pushed in, pulling at his rim. He could tell Roderick was getting close, his rhythm faltering slightly, his knot expanding. 

 

Mike groaned as he felt the knot growing, it was almost too much, the stretch pushing him to his limits. Every thrust pushed him closer and closer to the edge. As he felt the first pulse of Roderick’s come paint his insides, he felt like something broke inside of him, his orgasm ripping through him. 

 

Mike didn’t let go of the headboard even as he sagged forwards. He hissed as Roderick’s knot tugged against his rim, but Roderick followed him down.

 

“You can let go now,” Roderick told him, pulling his hands off the headboard. He wrapped his arms around Mike, holding him close. Mike allowed himself to feel the comfort of Roderick’s arms around him even if he knew it was all a facade.

 

Mike ended up dozing off wrapped up in Roderick’s arms, his knot still locking them together. When he woke up the clock on the bedside table read 1:00 am. 

 

Slowly he rolled out of Roderick’s arms. He looked down at the sleeping man, wondering what the hell he had been thinking. He could feel the heat bleeding out of his veins and that could only mean one thing.

 

Mike hadn’t meant to be bonded. He hadn’t thought he would ever end up in bed with Roderick after the bite. He had never asked the doctors for a birth control prescription when he had been in the hospital. Hadn’t even thought about it. 

 

But his heat should have lasted a few days. Only one thing would end it early and he wasn’t sure he was ready to think about that.  No, what he needed was a shower, and sleep somewhere that wasn’t a serial killer’s apartment. Quietly he slipped out of Roderick’s room, gathered his clothes, and headed back to his hotel. 

 

~*~

 

Mike didn’t expect to see Roderick again until they were bringing him in for his crimes. He especially didn’t expect to see Roderick the next day in the Havenport Police Station the FBI was borrowing. But there he was, the Sheriff of a sleepy little town. 

 

It made for an eventful day, which Mike was grateful for as it let him not thinking about the fact that his heat was over, and what that would mean for his future. 

 

They managed to arrest Roderick after saving Joey. Somehow Joe’s sharpshooters hadn’t hit anything vital, but Roderick was in a coma, then heading straight to a maximum security prison.  He wouldn’t be telling them anything about Joe’s cult anytime soon. 

 

It was 11pm and Mike was back in his hotel room. He had already showered and was about to climb into bed when there was a knock on his door. 

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as soon as he saw Ryan on the other side. His brain was already switching back on. Something must have happened with Carroll’s cult. 

 

“Nothing, can I come in?” Ryan asked. He followed Mike into the room and went straight for the mini bar. He grabbed two of the small liquor bottles and set one down on the table in front of where Mike sat. Mike stared at the small bottle wondering how he could beg off drinking it without telling Ryan the real reason. 

 

“One drink won’t hurt it,” Ryan told him, flopping in the chair across from him.

 

“You know?” Mike asked, slowly opening the bottle. He needed the drink for this conversation. 

 

“You were in heat yesterday, but today you’re calm and collected,” Ryan shrugged, “There’s only one way that happens.” 

 

“So then you know who...” He trailed off, not able to meet Ryan’s eyes. 

 

“Yes,” Ryan replied. “Look, I get it.”

 

“How could you?” Mike asked, suddenly feeling the weight of everything. “I didn’t even get a choice, Ryan. They fucking used my biology against me.” 

 

Ryan sighed, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. Mike saw the bite almost instantly. It was old, had scared over long ago, but it stood out starkly against Ryan’s skin.

 

“Who?” Mike asked, but he already knew the answer. It was the only thing that made sense. 

 

“Joe,” Ryan admitted, “Right before he stabbed me.” 

 

“Did you ever?” Mike asked. Wishing he hadn’t already downed his drink. This was the kind of conversation he wasn’t sure he’d want to remember.

 

“No,” Ryan said, “and I used up every favor I had to keep it out of the papers.”  Mike could feel his emotion swelling. That was it then, Ryan had done what he hadn’t. He had resisted his heats and not given into the bite. 

 

“I’m not here to judge you,” Ryan said. “I was in the hospital a lot longer than you were after my bite, my first heat had passed. Joe was already in jail. I just... If you need to talk about it I’m here.” 

 

“How did you deal with it?” Mike asked. 

 

“Alcohol,” Ryan replied. “Not the route I suggest, mind you. It takes the edge off the heats, but it’ll ruin the rest of your life.” 

 

“Do you regret not sleeping with him then?” Mike asked. It was always a possibility. Prisons made concessions to bonded couples. He would be able to visit Roderick in prison during his heats if he wanted to admit to the bond. 

 

“Sometimes,” Ryan replied slowly. “When it’s bad, but then I remember I’d have to listen to his awful writing so there is that.” 

 

Mike smiled, almost laughing at the comment, but the seriousness of the topic made him cut off abruptly. 

 

“Look there isn’t a right answer,” Ryan continued. “I can just tell you that ignoring it and riding out the heats leaves you bitter. You just have to make sure you don’t do something you can’t live with. Okay? Now look it’s getting late, I just wanted to talk. If you have any more questions, let me know.” 

 

“You won’t tell Donovan right?” Mike asked softly as Ryan got up to leave.

 

“No,” Ryan replied, and Mike believed him. 

 

He had a lot to think about, but just knowing that someone else was there who had been through it all, made it even better. He smiled as he realized he had a hand resting on his stomach. He could do this after all. 


End file.
